


Entre Flor Y Flor

by blanchtt



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: A collection of Shaysima minifics.





	1. Faking It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapphire is stupid. Online dating is stupid. This is stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know you but I told this person who was harassing me that you're my boy/girlfriend and they didn’t believe me so I came over and kissed you I’m sorry but please go along with it AU

 

 

 

Sapphire is stupid. Online dating is stupid. _This_ is stupid.

 

Cosima sips at her wine, shrugs to no one except herself, and slides her phone off the bar’s counter, drops it into her purse without a backwards glance. It’s clear nothing’s going to come of this. It’s been fifteen minutes since her date was supposed to show up, and still _nada_. Not even a hey-sorry-I-can't-make-it text.

 

She’s gone out of her way for… well, not _nothing_ , because new experiences are part of life, right? But the night hasn’t exactly gone as planned, and Cosima swirls the wine in her glass slowly, thinking. If she were still at Bobbi’s, she’d call someone up, drink some more, confidant that Felix or Sarah or Bobbi would have her back. But here, in some new bar a little farther downtown than she usually goes, she’s not so sure getting buzzed is such a great idea.

 

She’s about ready to reach under the bar and grab her wallet out of her purse to pay when a warm hand settles on her forearm, a body slides up against her side, and someone leans in, face close to hers like she’s going to kiss her cheek. The mystery groper’s lucky she’s still half-expecting her date to show up, or Cosima’s sure she’d have accidentally smacked her in the face in surprise – as it is, she jerks back under the onslaught of touches, too stunned to say anything as the other woman begins to speak, close enough to whisper before pulling back with a very forced smile.

 

“Play along?” she pleads, and Cosima recognizes it all for what it really is. No wink or nod is needed – it’d give them away. Instead, Cosima reaches out, slips an arm loose and respectful around the woman’s petite waist like she’s known her for years.

 

“Hey, babe,” she says, smiling, and watches a visible look of relief cross the other woman’s face, her shoulders loose a little of that anxious tightness. “You scared me there. I was just getting ready to leave.”

 

“Sorry. Traffic,” the other woman says smoothly, and Cosima grins. It’s not her first time doing this, and it probably won’t be her last. She lets go, motions at the spare seat next to her, and the woman takes it, taking an unsubtle look back over her shoulder before sitting.

 

Cosima angles toward her, wineglass in hand once more. She fingers the stem, playing with it without drinking more. The woman’s shorter than her, blonde, and dressed femme enough to make Cosima question if she’s walked into the bar by accident. “So,” she asks lazily, because part of making this work is actually looking like a couple, which involves drinking and talking together, at least for long enough for the woman to slip away unnoticed by whoever she’s avoiding. “What’s the situation?”

 

The woman turns to her, and she’s either a great actress or so relieved to have someone to talk to that her smile comes across as perfectly genuine. “The lady in the corner wouldn’t take no for an answer,” the woman says, and Cosima looks casually over the woman’s shoulder, sees another woman sitting in a booth across the bar shooting daggers at them both.

 

“Yikes. Glad I could help,” Cosima says, and the woman lets out a breath of laughter. So, yeah, it’s probably not the best place to get drunk alone, and the other woman still looks like she definitely needs a drink. Cosima puts her wineglass down decisively, nabs the bartender’s attention with a waved hand, and turns to her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

The woman looks surprised, sleepy eyes going wide, but nods. “I’d like that, thank you,” she says, and orders before turning back to Cosima. “I’d shake your hand, but we’re supposed to be a couple,” she says with a smile, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. She angles forward, and Cosima reminds herself _it’s all a ruse, remember,_ because it is very easy to lean forward too, to pretend to be a good girlfriend listening attentively. “I’m Shay.”

 

“Cosima,” she replies. And after saying her name, Cosima knows the signs, can almost count down until the question’s asked – and there is a furrowed brow, a thoughtful frown, silence before Shay sounds her name out.

 

“Cosima,” Shay repeats, and Cosima nods, watches as the bartender leaves whatever Shay ordered in front of her.

 

Shay takes a drink, but the silence between them doesn’t last long. Shay is still angled toward her, and Cosima sits back a little in her seat, feels herself relax on a first date like she hasn’t in a long, long time.

 

“So, Cosima,” Shay says, her name repeated again slow and meaningful. She plays with the rim of her glass, smiles, and Cosima feels herself smile back stupidly. “Do you usually come here?”

 

“No, actually,” Cosima explains, and lets out a short laugh. “This is a little out of my neighborhood. I’m really glad I got invited out here and then stood up now, though.”

 

Shay’s eyes go wide again, and she sips at her drink before speaking. “Someone stood you up?” she asks, incredulous. It’s not really that bad, Cosima wants to tell her. Well. It’s not like it’s ever happened before, because she doesn’t _do_ online dating. But women and cats will do as they please, etcetera. She’s almost ready to shrug carelessly when Shay catches her eyes, smiles slow and warm, and gives a little shrug of her own. “Their loss.”

 

_Oh._

 

Cosima grins, pushes her wineglass away, and leans an elbow on the counter. What a night, and, hey, now or never, right? “This might be a little redundant since we’re already, you know, dating,” she jokes, motioning with her free hand to the space between them as if to point out their supposed connection, and Shay seems to think it’s funny, too, hiding her smile in her glass as she takes another drink. “And no pressure if you want to say no, but… can I get your number?”

 

Cosima watches as Shay seems to think, eyes looking to the side in concentration, before meeting her gaze. “I have an idea, if you’d like to get out of here,” Shay offers, setting down her glass. “Let’s move this somewhere a little more our style. What do you say?” she asks, and Cosima grins as Shay subtly nods back in the direction of the back corner of the bar. “If I give you my number here, it might look a little odd to our friend over there.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Cosima says, and reaches for her purse. In no time they’ve paid, and Shay stands, straightens her jacket and steps aside as Cosima slips out of her seat. “After you,” Cosima says, sweeping a hand in front of them grandly, and Shay shakes her head, smiling, and reaches for Cosima’s hand.

 

“Come on,” Shay says, threading their fingers together before they begin to make their way towards the door. “I know someplace that serves some _exceptional_ tea.”

 

“You sure know how to treat a girl,” Cosima quips, squeezing Shay’s hands, and it gets her a warm smile in return as Shay squeezes back, as they walk out the bar, as they head down the street together, as they walk together hand in hand, with no one to pretend for.

 

 

 


	2. Chick Lit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But what really has her raise an eyebrow, what has her thinking that all those cheesy romcoms about meeting someone on the train or in a café could be true, is actually the book the other woman is reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw you reading my favourite book on the train and you told me you preferred the film and we got into an argument about which is better AU

 

 

 

There are several thing that catch her eye. The other woman’s bright red coat, for starters, setting her apart from everyone else on the metro car – this season’s color, apparently, is a drab green. Shay tilts her head, looks over the edge of her own book of Julia de Burgos’ poetry held loose now in her hands. And there are the dreds, too, wrapped up in a bun, and glasses, and perfectly-applied eyeliner. But what really has her raise an eyebrow, what has her thinking that all those cheesy romcoms about meeting someone on the train or in a café could be true, is actually the book the other woman is reading.

 

Gay literature is practically a litmus test, and the other woman’s sitting tucked into a corner seat near the double-doors, deeply lost in her copy of _Carol_.

 

She has her own copy at home, but it’s an older version with various parts underlined and pages dog-eared, the one without the movie poster as the front cover. She’d only read it a few years ago, and instantly fallen in love with it. And so Shay smiles, closes her own book and reaches for her bag, tucks it in and hoists the strap over her shoulder. It’s worth a try, and if it doesn’t work out she can just get off at the next stop and move cars. Totally nonthreatening for the other woman, painless for her.

 

Shay gets up, heaves her bag onto her shoulder, and slips through the crowd, settles near the doors next to the woman’s seat.

 

It’s encouraging that the woman’s eyes flick up briefly before going back to her book, that a little bit of a smile seems to grow on her lips, that the other woman is maybe not so oblivious to her, either, despite a lack of lesbian literature. Shay gathers her courage, motions with a hand, says lightly, “Hey. The Price of Salt.”

 

It seems fitting for the setting. Easy, casual, anonymous. The other woman looks up at the mention of the book title, grins and nods and closes her book, a finger held between two pages to keep her place. “Yeah. I saw the movie and thought I’d read the book, too,” the woman explains, and Shay smiles.

 

“Same,” Shay replies. If she’s read the book, she’ll see the movie, too. More often than not, the movie just doesn’t live up to the literature. And for this one, she’d also ended up preferring the book over the movie. The prose had done it for her, as well as the glimpses into the characters’ thoughts, some touchingly similar to her own, experiences enduring even sixty-plus years after the publishing date. Shay shifts, holds tighter to the railing as the metro slows suddenly to a jerky stop, as the doors open and let people in and out before starting up again. “How do you like it?”

 

The other woman takes a deep breath, bites her lip, drums fingers against her thigh before answering. “I know this is going to sound totally crazy,” she admits with a small laugh, waving her free hand in the air dismissively. “And I’m not done with the book yet, to be fair. But so far, I like the movie more.”

 

Shay nods slowly, takes the information in with a smile. The movie does have its merits – beautiful cinematography, cute actresses, a streamlined plot. It had made its way to her list of favorite for sure. But the woman must take her momentary silence as disapproval, because she asks, a shoulder quirking up in a shrug, “I take it you’re not a fan of the movie?”

 

“No, I am,” Shay clarifies quickly, holding out a hand before catching herself and lowering it. “I just preferred the book. You get so much more out of Therese in it,” she explains, and the other woman nods, opens her mouth as if thinking of speaking, and it’s turning into an actual conversation so Shay holds out her hand, hopes the other woman doesn’t find her rude for cutting in. “I’m Shay, by the way.”

 

The other woman’s handshake is gentle and lingering, fingers covered in rings. “Cosima,” she says with a smile, reaching up to push back her glasses with her free hand, nose wrinkling in amusement. “And yeah, she’s a riot,” Cosima admits. “But what about Carol?” Cosima holds up her book with one hand, makes an unbelieving expression. “ _Yikes_.”

 

“True,” Shay has to admit with a laugh. The difference in Carol’s character is probably the reason most people enjoy the movie more. “She comes off much… harsher in the book, and it is a good movie,” Shay muses. She looks away, realizes her stop is actually coming up, but turns back to Cosima. What’s a couple of missed stops when she’s in the middle of a Very Important Convesation? “But you miss so many beautiful phrases in the movie because there isn’t any narration,” Shay offers.

 

What could probably turn into an hour’s worth of discussion is neatly avoided as Cosima watches her, a soft smile on her lips. ”And what’s your favorite line?” she asks smoothly.

 

Shay hardly has to think. “’And she did not have to ask if this was right, and no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect,’” Shay replies. It had been a line that hadn’t necessarily reflect her own experiences but that certainly sounded beautiful when she had read it.

 

Cosima sits back in her seat, nods in agreement and watches her. “You a writer?” she asks, an eyebrow raised approvingly.

 

Shay shakes her head, clasps her bag tight to herself and thinks of the not one but two books in there. “Massage therapist. I’m just fond of the written word.”

 

“Same. Evo-devo candidate, at the moment,” Cosima laughs. Shay smiles back, watches with a tinge of regret as their conversation appears to come to an end as Cosima quickly gathers her things, shoves her book back into her bag, and stands up.

 

“So, Shay,” Cosima asks, hiking her bag onto her shoulder – and it is a question, because Shay can hear a hopefulness there that mirrors her own fluttering light in her chest. Cosima reaches out, holds onto the railing, fingers brushing light against Shay’s own, and looks up through her lashes. “This is a big assumption on my part, but girls don’t usually quote Carol at me, so maybe not,” Cosima starts, and then stops, purses her lips serious enough to get a laugh out of Shay, and asks with a fluttering of her free hand, “But, um, could I get your number?”

 

“As long as we can agree to disagree on whether the book or movie was better,” Shay jokes lightly, and it gets a smile out of Cosima, tongue poking through her teeth before Shay looks away, grabs a pen out of her bag and reaches out. It’s a little daring, but the entire conversation has gone remarkably well so far.

 

“No promises,” Cosima says with false gravity, and Shay uncaps the pen with a smile, takes Cosima’s hand, and begins to scrawl her phone number on Cosima’s palm.

 

 

 


	3. Pool Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s in no position to turn down an invitation to a pool party. For one, it’s almost a hundred degrees out and her AC’s been on and off all day, battling valiantly against overuse. Cosima puts down her phone, glad for a break, and closes her laptop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You were swimming in the deep end when I was pushed into the pool and you thought I was drowning so you ‘saved me’ and gave me mouth-to-mouth AU

 

 

 

She’s in no position to turn down an invitation to a pool party. For one, it’s almost a hundred degrees out and her AC’s been on and off all day, battling valiantly against overuse. Cosima puts down her phone, glad for a break, and closes her laptop. It’s definitely time for a change of activity. And, second, Sarah’s been hovering over her like a stressed mother hen. Cosima heads to her room, roots around her dresser drawer and finds her favorite purple bikini. She knows she’s a little pale, okay? She’s just gotten over a gnarly respiratory infection that’s taken the better part of a very grey and wet spring to clear up, and ‘haggard’ doesn’t really do her justice right now.

 

And so, one change of clothing and a packed bag later, Cosima locks her front door behind herself and heads over to Felix’s – really, it’s his boyfriend’s house, but a pool’s a pool.

 

The hot walk leaves her glad to find the house, a party already apparently in full swing. Music blares from the backyard, and Cosima lets herself in through the side-gate, finds people milling around on the lawn drinking, spilling in and out of the house, drunkenly running down the Slip-n-Slide, and splashing in the not-too-crowded pool. They’re mostly Felix’s friends, but she waves a hello at Sarah playing party DJ with someone's iPod, grabs an empty poolchair and puts her bag down on the concrete. She doesn’t even jump when Felix quickly makes his presence known.

 

“You’re not _seriously_ going to sit there the whole time, are you?” Felix asks, sounding aghast as he appears in front of her chair, replete in a very handsome kimono, and Cosima grins, gets out a tube of sunscreen and begins applying it liberally. The sun does feel good on her skin and she misses her color, but skin cancer’s not cute.

 

“I’m here to tan, not swim,” she replies, and Felix gives her a Look.

 

“Cosima,” he says warningly.

 

“Felix,” Cosima quips back. Felix of all people should know that you don’t just _go for a swim_. She’s got makeup and jewelry on, dressed to impress, and her dreads are pulled up in a ponytail that’s all too easy to get wet. Today is strictly a tanning day.

 

Felix cocks a hip, looks away before turning back to her swiftly and giving her his best pout. “Please?” he asks, a hand reaching up to rest over his heart. “For me?”

 

Cosima bites her lip, but then shakes her head. On top of just starting to feel well again, she’s just starting to feel like dating, and being dressed to impress is part of the point of coming out here. No one wants to hit on a girl who smells like chlorine and drips water everywhere. Cosima settles back in the pool chair comfortably. “I’m really fine here,” she says, motioning with a hand, and Felix shrugs.

 

“Alright,” he sighs. He steps closer, and Cosima’s caught completely by surprise as he bends down and picks her up, strong arms scooping her up, and announces, “Then you leave me no choice.”

 

“Felix!” Cosima shouts, drowned out by Felix’s laughter, and she squirms, kicking carefully lest she catch someone else on her way to a unceremonious drop into the water. But Felix is surprisingly strong and, really, it’s all in good fun. Getting tossed in the pool won’t kill her, right? Out of pettiness, though, she clutches at Felix’s kimono, hoping to drag him in with her, but Felix not only drops but _tosses_ her in and the material slips through her fingers, which is pretty much the last thing Cosima’s aware of before a loud splash and water rushing up to surround her.

 

It takes her several seconds to get back up to the air – he must have thrown her in the deep end because she expects to be able to touch bottom and use that to push herself back up. But instead her feet touch nothing but more water, and so Cosima struggles and splutters back to the surface, hands slapping at the water and coughing amongst good-natured scattered laughter as she breaks the surface. Her glasses have disappeared, Cosima realizes, reaching up with one hand to wipe water delicately from her face before blinking – everything is blurry. Thank god for waterproof eyeliner, though.

 

There’s suddenly a strong hand gripping her forearm, and Cosima can hardly protest as whoever it is half-swims, half-drags them over to the side of the pool in a few easy strokes. She feels the scrape of the poolside againt her shoulder and reaches out instinctively, grabs onto the sun-warmed ledge with both hands to steady herself. There's no more need to swim, and Cosima hangs onto the ledge, blinks again and shivers because the water is cold in the _best_ way.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

There’s sincere worry there, and Cosima grins. As much as Sarah likes to steal her glasses and then hold up fingers and demand to know how many Cosima sees, her vision isn’t that bad up close. In fact, it’s good enough to know that a very cute girl is still holding onto her pretty tightly. She must think she doesn’t know how to swim, Cosima realizes.

 

“Yeah. But I lost my glasses,” Cosima says, pointing at her face sheepishly with one hand. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”

 

The girl’s face goes from tight with worry to slightly more relaxed, though her brows remained furrowed as she looks around them and down into the water. “Oh. They’re probably at the bottom somewhere, huh?” she asks thoughtfully, and Cosima hums an affirmative response. “Hold on.” The grip around her arm disappears as water sloshes around them, and Cosima squints, watches as a distorted figure that must be the girl dives down into the water to the bottom of the pool.

 

In no time at all, the girl pops right back up, blonde hair dark now with water and bangs slicked to her forehead. “Here you go,” the girl offers, holding out her glasses as she too grasps onto the pool ledge to keep from having to keep swimming, and Cosima takes them, tries to blow water off them as best she can, and puts them on.

 

And, oh snap. Correction. Her rescuer is _super_ cute.

 

“My hero," Cosima says sincerely, and watches as it gets a wide smile out of the girl. She would have had to ask for help from someone else, because there's no way she would have found them on the bottom of the pool herself. “Seriously, thank you so much,” Cosima elaborates, shaking her head. Her dreds are _soaked_ and she’ll have to go monopolize Felix’s single bathroom to remedy that, but this might have been worth it. She tilts her head, goes for it, and asks, “Has anyone ever told you you’re, like, crazy-strong, by the way?”

 

“Basic training and then yoga,” the girl explains with a laugh, and she holds out a dripping hand that Cosima takes, finding her grasp light and lingering. “Shay.”

 

“Cosima. I swear I know how to swim,” Cosima adds, and she reaches up, grimaces as she uses a free hand to squeeze her dreds free of _some_ of the water. Great. “Felix just caught me off-guard.”

 

“It sure looked like it,” Shay says seriously. She seems to think, eyes flicking to the side, before meeting Cosima’s mischievously. “Wanna get him back?

 

Beautiful _and_ a troublemaker. She'll have to thank Felix later. That is, if he's willing to speak to her ever again after they dump him in the pool. Cosima grins, peers over the ledge of the pool and scans the lawn for Felix. Tony's sitting in a lawn chair near the barbecue, and Felix is sitting primly in his lap, totally absorbed in the conversation they're having with someone else. He's far from the pool, but distracted. It's possible. Cosima turns back to Shay, asks with a nod towards Felix, “You think we can do it?”

 

Shay holds up an arm like she’s posing and showing off muscle, but whatever muscle she has is pretty lean and it just makes for an adorable picture that Cosima tries not to laugh at. Shay must be well aware of it, though, and adds with a wink, “Hey. I’m tiny but mighty.”

 

“Alright,” Cosima agrees. She grips the ledge, hauls herself out, and reaches down to help Shay out, grinning. “Let’s do this.”

 

 

 


	4. Right Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time she’d met her project partner in the library for a study session, she’d seen Cosima narrowly avoid dropping an armful of books. And so Shay tenderly presses a tissue to her nose and knows, half-joking, that she has only herself to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking about something with my friends and in my excitement I accidentally elbowed you in the nose when you were walking past oh my god are you okay AU

 

 

 

The first time she’d met her project partner in the library for a study session, she’d seen Cosima narrowly avoid dropping an armful of books. And so Shay tenderly presses a tissue to her nose and knows, half-joking, that she has only herself to blame. “I am _so_ sorry,” Cosima repeats for what’s probably the twentieth time in as many minutes, and Shay only closes her eyes against the throbbing that emanates from her nose, in a little too much pain to nod or wave Cosima’s worries off.

 

“It’s okay,” she repeats back thickly, almost relieved to be focusing on something other than how much a potentially broken nose hurts her entire _face_ , and with watering eyes closed hears Cosima make a noise of disbelief. So, yeah. Maybe it’s not _okay_ , but it’s not like Cosima hit her with a car, either. Shay had seen her across the crowded cafeteria, gone over to say hello, and only realized as it was happening that Cosima was very vividly reenacting some sort of scene for the scowling friend she’d been eating with, and before she could think to step back, there was Cosima’s elbow in her face.

 

Specifically, connecting with the bridge of her nose. The downside to crushing on someone notorious for talking with her hands.

 

The nurse calls a name from where she's sitting bored behind the glass window, and Shay opens her eyes, breathes out evenly as she realizes it’s not for her. Thankfully, the injury’s not bad enough to warrant leaving the campus health center, and there aren’t that many people ahead of her. “Is there anything I can do?” Cosima asks again weakly, and Shay looks over at her, finds Cosima sitting angled toward her, still worried and twisting her fingers in her lap.

 

“Cosima,” Shay repeats, and reaches out, lays a hand over Cosima’s to still her and is unsurprised to find that Cosima’s hands are freezing. Every time she's seen her Cosima's always got about four layers on and _still_ manages to look cold. Shay gives her hand a squeeze to reassure her that she really does mean it. “I’m fine. We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t insist,” Shay reminds her with a smile. “I just need ice.”

 

At this, Cosima makes a skeptical face, but doesn’t contradict her. “Yeah, well,” Cosima says, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. “I just wouldn’t want your nose to heal crooked.”

 

Shay lets out a soft laugh, winces, and lowers the tissue she’s been holding up to her nose. Her nose had stopped bleeding fairly quickly once Cosima had slammed into her, but she’d held onto the tissue long enough to make sure it’d truly stopped before considering throwing it away. She balls it up, clutches it in her free hand, and notices vaguely that Cosima has made no move to slip her hand out from hers, and in fact has begun to run her thumb lightly over hers, soothing despite the coolness of her touch.

 

At least, Cosima had been doing so until she’d lowered the tissue. Shay catches sight of Cosima wincing, feels her go still, and asks, “That bad?”

 

“Uh, no,” Cosima says after considerable pause, and it’s somehow endearing how much of a terrible liar she is. And it must be as transparent to Cosima as it is to her, because Cosima finally smiles again, sheepish, and admits, “You’re going to have a nasty bruise.”

 

“I’ve walked off worse at home.” Riding horses had always come with its share of danger, but luckily she’d always come away from fleeting misadventures mostly unscathed. “Prairie girl,” Shay adds quickly before Cosima can misinterpret that, and she shrugs. “It’d give me some character,” she offers. Not that she'd ever strived for a broken nose, but hey. It's not the worse thing that could happen. 

 

“You could rock it,” Cosima replies, and then shrugs loosely. “Not that you’d need more character. You’re pretty cool enough already,” Cosima explains unabashedly, and Shay almost laughs again but stops herself in time, half out of the need to avoid more pain and half in disbelief. Herself? Cool? It's hardly something she strives for. And has Cosima looked in the mirror recently? Cosima continues, adds with a little confident smile and a squeeze of her hand, “If you got any cooler I wouldn’t be cool enough to hang out with you.”

 

All in all, maybe the fractured nose thing isn't _all_ negative. “That’d be bad for our project grade,” Shay offers dryly, trying not to look too pleased with her own witty comeback, and Cosima laughs.

 

“True,” Cosima admits, clearly amused. She leans closer, a little bit of smugness in her posture as she asks, “So, Ms. I’m Going To Walk It Off, I guess it’s a good thing we’re here getting you all patched up, huh?”

 

“I suppose it is," Shay admits good-naturedly, and reiterates, "For our grade." And, luckily, the door to the hallway and waiting rooms opens up, and a nurse steps out halfway, holds onto a clipboard and reads off, “Davydov, Shay?"

 

At the sound of her name, Cosima lets go of her hand, sits back as Shay reaches down and picks her backpack up off the floor. “Should I, like, stay out here?” Cosima asks, and Shay hardly has to think before replying.

 

“I was thinking you could escort me," Shay teases, standing up. She slips the forgotten balled-up tissue into her coat pocket, lets a little bit of truth slip into the joke as she confesses, "I think I'll need a hand to squeeze if I don't get some ice soon.”

 

Cosima shakes her head, gathers her things and slings her bag over her shoulder as she follows, stands and takes Shay's hand. “Squeeze away," she offers contritely. "It’s my penance.”

 

“You’re going to regret that,” Shay warns lightly. Cosima's grip is loose, like she's unsure where she stands in all this, a girl still wary about that thin line between girls holding hands or _girls holding hands_ , and Shay slips her fingers between Cosima's, threads them together just in case Cosima needs just a little more reassurance. “Like I said. Prairie girl.”

 

“Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch," Cosima replies sagely, though as they walk over to the nurse hand in hand, Shay catches a glimpse of a growing smile that suggests Cosima believes otherwise.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

(Their first kiss is tender, a fleeting brush of Cosima’s lips on hers a few days later for fear of bumping into her still-healing nose, and Shay reaches up, cups the curve of Cosima’s jaw, and pulls her close as Cosima leans forward to meet her, and steals herself a _proper_ first kiss.

 

And she might bite Cosima's lip, just a little, a light-stinging tease to hear Cosima breathe in sharp, to hear her moan and feel her arch up eager against her, because _karma_.)

 

 

 

 


End file.
